Blood Soaked Mind
by Reality-or-Dream
Summary: 'Ivan paused to listen carefully but didn't hear anything so he went back to the precious liquor, once again the sensation of his throat burning came back, and that's when he heard the cry again, this time louder.' Oneshot, and contains fluff


**A.N: Okay, I shouldn't be writing one-shots, spending hours on because I can't afford Photoshop and spending even longer on MSN doing sexy RP's. I should be spending hours in Word Processor writing the next part to 'Oh, How Cliché'.**

…**but I'm stuck on the 5****th**** page…and have been for the past week. Writing, deleting (DELETE! DELETE!…too much Death Note again) and rewriting so I've more or less given up on trying so I'm going to write this one-shot until I get inspired (as if…) or force myself to write more, so until then… ^^**

**Please enjoy~**

**OoOo**

The pale teenager put the bottle to his lips and drank deeply. He shuddered as the strong liquid burned his mouth and throat, but it kept him warm from the bitter cold. Screwing the lid back on the glass bottler, he put it back in his long coat pocket and wiped his lips, unusual violet eyes scanning the landscape before him.

Well…there was blood. A lot of blood. The deep red liquid had stained the albino land, along with the various corpse's and body parts, he doubted anyone had lived. He smiled as he thought of the cries of pain and helplessness escaped from their lips, the look on their faces must've been brilliant. As he imagined the look on their pathetic, weak faces he started to giggle. Oh how he wished he was there, but no~ he had to go to that meeting where England and France were having yet another childish fight, Francis was barely in his early teens and Arthur had only just passed the age of ten, it was useless going to these meetings. The Russian cursed them silently as he began to imagine the massacre again, he let out even more giggles which turned to a maniac laugh.

He started to choke from laughing so much, and as he reached into his pocket to take yet another swig of Russian Water, he heard a faint cry. Ivan paused to listen carefully but didn't hear anything so he went back to the precious liquor, once again the sensation of his throat burning came back, and that's when he heard the cry again, this time louder.

The Russian screwed the lid on top of the bottle and slipped it back into the deep pocket of his long coat. Right. Now to search the source of the noise. The fifteen year old picked his way through the dead bodies, turning them over with his foot, staining his boots with blood.

As the cry got louder, Ivan realised that it sounded like a child…possibly a baby. He spotted a female body lying on the ground, her long silver hair was stained in the red liquid, there was a deep wound in her back between her shoulder blades where the sword and stabbed her right through…although the noise seemed to be coming from her, her back wasn't moving to indicate she was breathing, nonetheless he rolled her over with a bloodstained boot and let out a small gasp.

In the arms of the woman was a baby covered in its mothers blood, no older than a few months, it wouldn't stop crying. Ivan sighed, well he would have to get rid of it. Picking up the child he looked down at it…okay so it was a boy. The baby boy stopped crying looked up at the country, to which Ivan looked down and observed his face.

His eyes were wide and were the colour of blood, had the same silver hair as mother, he was rather thin for a baby, as far as Ivan was concerned baby's were supposed to be fatter than this… Oh well, better make it quick.

Holding the baby in one arm, he got his other arm and wrapped a hand round the small boys neck, and as he was about to press down to block the air-way a small hand grabbed Ivan's thumb. The teenager froze and looked down at the baby who looked back with innocent eyes. The two were looking at each other for quiet sometime, until the Russian sighed and wrapped the baby up with the end of his scarf who instantly snuggled into it. Ivan smiled down at the small child, he must be cold.

So, knowing the only way he got warm, he took out the bottle of vodka for a third time in that hour, he unscrewed the top, dipped a finger into the liquid and put his finger into the baby's mouth. The baby pulled away, tears were in the corner of his crimson eyes.

"This will keep you warm." the Russian said, and put his finger back into the baby's mouth. As though understanding what the country had said, the baby sucked all the vodka off his finger, then pulled away looking back at him hopefully. Oh God he liked the stuff…

The teenager chuckled and took another swig, then putting the bottle back into his pocket, he then held the baby with both arms and looked down at him. It had then occurred to him that the baby boy didn't have a name, and if he did then Ivan would never know because his mother was lying in a pool of blood and snow at his feet. Thinking for a minute he thought of a name.

"Hm… I think I'll call you Gilbert." he said to the baby who was now dozing off in his arms. "And your Country will be Prussia…"

**OoOo**

…**What had started to be a disturbing/dark/creepy story about Russia, I ended up with more-or-less fluff XD**

**Yes! This is how Prussia got his name! Mwahahaha I am like so original XD**

**-cough- anyways, reviews and all that are welcome. And now that I don't have writers block anymore I'm gonna go finish off 'Oh, How Cliché' now ¬¬**


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